Recurring Images - Stop Motion: Passion, Process and Performance - page 53

before a more creative union happens between the other arts and stop motion. That this does
not happen is probably a lack of awareness of our potential and that we have the same skills,
although we apply them dif erently. I am pleased to see Suzie Templeton's Peter and the Wolf
often being screened accompanied by a live orchestra.
Ballet
Ballet somehow manages to capture the essence of characters in a way that other mediums
cannot. It is so fake and unrealistic, but manages to speak with directness. It is this distillation
that stop motion, also, does best.
All the great classics of children's literature, such as Beatrix Potter , The Wind in the Willows , Alice
in Wonderland and Peter Pan , have all been animated, some drawn, some stop motion, but the
closest to the spirit of the topics have, for me, all been ballet productions. This is particularly
true for the Beatrix Potter characters. There have been some splendidly realised drawn versions,
but surprisingly no stop motion treatments. The characters are perfectly drawn, in every sense,
and so rounded with proportions that would make great puppets. Maybe it's a copyright
issue, or the stories are too slight for the big screen, or the drawings are so delicate that a solid
puppet might be too substantial; or perhaps a complex expensive puppet could not justify
a short screen appearance. I have long since wanted to i lm these stories, particularly Jeremy
Fisher , who is so resilient, charging on regardless of what life throws at him. (With him and Toad,
what is it about amphibians that strike such a chord with me?). However, nothing brought
these characters to life better than the 1971 Royal Ballet i lm. Christine Edzard designed the
costumes, and although they are all built around human proportions they capture the animal
quality perfectly. All the character comes from Sir Frederic Ashton's glorious and inventive
choreography, rather than from any voices or facial expressions. The spirited dance for Jeremy
Fisher catches his energetic optimism suggested by the topic better than words could.
The luxury of the Royal Ballet workshops and great dancers helps, but what an inspired yet
strange idea. A wordless ballet on i lm of delicately illustrated stories should not work, but
it does. It freed the characters, i nding the essence rather than the literal interpretation.
That notion is true for stop motion.
The Wind in the Willows has always been a tricky one to adapt. Shepherd's illustrations for
Grahame's book do not help, as the characters change scale from one drawing to another
(as Kong changed scale when his environment needed him to). They work magnii cently
as drawings, but when stuck with an inl exible scale, things can be tricky. One minute Toad
is proportioned as an infant, the next he is happily driving a car. Cosgrove Hall was successful
in i nding the right balance between animal and Edwardian gents. The worst realisation
of these characters was with real actors given solid unmoving masks, but behaving
naturalistically as real humans without the ballet to give a convention. The production failed
on all accounts. The most successful versions have blurred this line between animal and
human to create something new. Most actors wear large green goggles as Toad:
these suggest not only his passion for driving, but also a toad's characteristically
large eyes. Similarly, his Edwardian suit and plus-fours are often tailored to
emphasise a puf ed out chest and chunkier upper legs, satisfyingly suggesting
the essence of the two worlds without being explicit. Productions where the
characters were performed by actors with no hint of make-up and straight
clothing left me feeling cheated unless the body language suggested the animal.